Old West
by Mrs Don Draper
Summary: Prompt: Warnings for underage and prostitution. Underage!f!Steve is a whore. Tony is the cowboy who falls in love with her.


Stella Rogers woke up to the sound of a knocking on her door. A quick check of the clock her bedside table confirmed that it was three o'clock: almost time for her next appointment. Oh how she wished she could just sleep. It was too hot to pretend to be interested in dirty cowboys and leering fieldhands. She sat up in bed to stretch.

The knocking began again. But louder and more annoying this time.

"Alright, Fury, I'm awake. You can cease your incessant knocking!"

Stella heard mumbling on the other side of the door about how he was "tired of playing nursemaid to a bunch of whores." _Well_. Stella decided to ignore the insult and climbed out of bed to redress and to repaint her face and to comb her tangled blonde hair. She picked her blue and white dress up off the floor and tugged on her cumbersome red heeled boots. Sometimes she just didn't see the point to dressing at all when her clothes were simply going to end up on the floor anyway. She seated herself at her vanity and applied her rouge and kohl almost automatically; her golen hair recieved the same treatment. With a sigh, she stood up to admire the effect of gown and make-up and decided she looked good enough for the types who usually came through this neck of the prairie. She contented herself with the fact that she was making more money here than most men and women made in factories and on farms, a whole $10 a week.

She sat on her bed as she waited for the next man to come to her room, thinking about she would love to go back East. Perhaps to New York where she could be an actress on the stage or perhaps even record her voice onto one of those cylinders that play music whenever one wants to listen. Stella longed to prove herself as something more than just a warm body, worth nothing more than twenty minutes and fifty cents. Her train of thought was intrupted by another knock: her appointment. She schooled her face into an inviting smile and leaned back on the bed to more prominently display her bosoms.

"Come in," she chirped.

The door opened and let in an oldish man, probably thirty-five or even forty, with unruly brown hair, brown eyes that shone in the afternoon light, and a holster that weighed heavily on his hips, sagging his trousers down quite low for someone to consider themself a gentleman. He flashed her a winning smile as he shut the door, and Stella fought the urge to roll her eyes. He was the type who thought she could be wooed and impressed by his cock and his so-called skills with it. He wanted to impress and have his ego (among other things) stroked and petted. He was just so fucking full of himself.

"And what's your name, miss?" he asked with another grin.

"What do you want it to be?"

Stella wrapped one of her blonde tresses around and around her finger, biting her lip as she did so in the hopes that he would just get this over with rather than have a conversation with her. She realized that this was not to be as he pulled her desk chair over to straddle so that he could sit more comfortably to chat, apparently. Her patience was quickly wearing thin.

"What's your real name, honey?"

"Rachel Collins."

"Then why is your handkerchief embroidered 'SR'?"

She had left the damning piece of evidence on her vanity as she had been adjusting her make-up.

"Alright, Sherlock, my name is Stella, if you really must know. Who are you?"

"Tony. Tony Stark. Though during the War Between the States, they called me Iron Man since no bullet ever stopped me. Not even the one that just missed my heart."

He began to unbutton his shirt, presumably to show off a scar. Stella found herself fascinated in spite of herself and looked on with curiosity and slight horror at the mass of scar tissue and disfigured skin nearly the center of his chest. She imagined that it had been quite painful, if wasn't still.

"Northerner then?"

He looked up in slight surpise.

"It's your accent. New York, I would think. What are you doing all the way out here in Oregon?"

He went on to regale her with stories of a father-son weaponry business that had factories in most states and territories. There had been a boom in sales during the War and Tony had seen a chnace to prove to his father and his business partner—Obediah Stane—that not only could be make and sell weapons, but also use them. He had been shot in the chest in '63 and would have been left to die in the field had he not been Tony Stark. The Conderates sent out a doctor to remove the bullet on the condition that upon his recovery, he would supply them with weapons instead to the North. How he ended up here? Well, that was because his father had been drafted and killed in action himself, and with him died the dream of training an infantry of super-soldiers. He had thought he would continue to work with Obediah after he returned from War, only to discover the man had been stealing from him. Their partnership had ended in a duel behind Stark's mansion with Tony as the obvious victor. And now? Now he was miner. What better way to give back to the poor folks still suffering from War losses than to provide them with much-needed fuel? Fuel to power trains and heat homes and even to light up homes that could afford electric light.

"And now I'm here. Sitting and talking with a beautiful girl."

He smiled again, but this time Stella noticed the pain underneath it. She still thought him cocky and boastful, but also sad and hurting. He had had a difficult life, and that was something Stella could sympthize with, herself having been orphaned young and passed about amongst relatives until she had saved enough money to go West, only to find just as much disappointment. She suddenly felt very foolish to have judged this man before she even knew him. How many others had she misjudged? It was extremely troublesome.

"Oh, and now I've made you upset. I'm sorry, sweatheart. Come over here and I'll kiss it better."

And maybe she was being played, maybe she was falling for stories made up only to make her feel bad enough to _want_ to sleep with him, but if he was telling the truth and there was something she could do to ease his pain—for why else would a man come to a whorehouse if not because of pain and dissastifaction—then she would do so.

"Whatever you want, just tell me."

"Want you in my lap."

Stella nodded and plucked herself up from her mattress, and Tony spun to sit the right way in his chair so that Stella could straddle his thighs. She did so, carefully so as not to jar his War wound, and began to hitch her hips foward to get him hard enough to fuck her. She tucked her face into the side of his neck to kiss him to avoid having to look into his doleful eyes. She didn't—couldn't—let herself grow too attached. Tony cupped her buttocks under her dress and pulled her forward with more speed. Stella felt him harden beneath her and asked him if he wanted her to undress now. He let her up to do so.

The blue and white silk cascaded off her body to pool at her feet. She leaned over, giving him a nice view of her coresetted breasts, to unlace her boots. Stella stood between his spread legs for him to unlace her corset, as if was difficult to do so on one's own. He didn't stumble or struggle as he loosened the cords as most men did, oftentimes pulling out a knife to slice through them in their impatience. It was a welcome change, knowing that Fury wouldn't dock her pay for ruined supplies this time. Soon, corset joined dress on the floor, leaving her naked and feeling a tad vulnerable in his presence.

Tony looked her over, hopefully admiring instead of condemning. Apparently satisfied with her, he also undressed and laid himself back on the bed. Stella joined him and positioned herself between his legs to blow him. She stroked him a bit, getting a feel for his body and its reactions. She didn't want or need to deal any crazy behavior, but seeing no other reaction than sighs and moans, she ducked her head down to suck him. He was fairly large in her mouth, though not the largest. As she bobbed her head, she remembered an experience with a man who went only by Thor who definitely was by a long shot, which would have been uncomfortable had he not been equally gentle with her. Something about "Midgardians" being tiny. Stella was shaken from her reverie when Tony suddenly thrust more deeply into her mouth. She gagged and pulled back to catch her breath.

"If you want to fuck my mouth, just tell me first," she reminded.

She may not have been a fallen woman—if one could even call her a woman yet—for very long, but she didn't think she was asking to much when she asked for some warning before someone changed pace with her.

"Apologies, kitten. I would very much like to fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

She lowered her head again, pulling his hands to her hair so he could better control his thrusts and so as to have an indicator to when she was supposed to pull off his cock for him to penetrate her. Though he was forceful, he let her get used to the motion again before getting rougher with her and pushing deeply into her mouth and throat. Stella felt his essence on her tounge and swallowed harshly several times, elliciting loud moans from the man beneath her. And again she felt herself being pulled off of him.

"You've got quite a mouth, miss. If I had kept going, you would have had me coming in no time."

She feels her face warm and she tells herself it's from her lack of breath and not because of his praise. She doesn't have much time to think about that, however, because soon he is flipping their positions, spreading her thighs wide to get a look at what's between them. While Tony may have been flattering, she wasn't very much aroused, which troubled him because whether she was a whore or not, there was no reason to cause the poor girl pain.

"I want to lick you," he offered, remembering to ask first this time.

Stella looked confused at his request.

"Why would you want to do that?"

Tony is startled by her revelation.

"No one's ever reciprocated? I can fix that for you, if you'd like. Makes intercourse easier on the woman when she's relaxed and open."

Stella wished she had known that before. Perhaps some experiences would have been less...painful had she herself been more aroused. She supposed that was just her inexperience shining through again.

"Alright. If you think it will help."

Tony assured her that it would and put his effort into proving it to her. He laved his tongue over and over her lips, moistening her and arousing her fluids. He sucked at her clit until she was a gasping, shuddering mess below him. She completely lost it when he tongued her channel, bucking her hips uncontrobably in exquisite pleasure. He licked her through her climax until she begged, "Please, please stop now. It's too much! _Please_..."

He knelt up to survey his handiwork.

"What-what did you _do_?" Stella panted when he finally let up.

"What did I do?" he repeated. "When Fury and 'Tasha said they had a new girl, they weren't kidding, were they?"

"N-no. I'm sorry. Really, I am. I'm trying."

For as much as Stella griped and groused about her job, she knew she could not afford to lose it. Any complaints about her service would mean being thrown out to work on her own without the benefits that came with Fury's muscles and 'Tasha's aim.

Tony couldn't help but laugh. And Stella couldn't help but feel embarrassed and angered. Here she had been trying to be patient with him after he had opened up to her, let him rut against her and swallowed him down, and now this was all some kind of joke to him? Having had enough of him, she sat up and shoved at his chest, not caring if she hurt him or not, taking him by surprise enough that landed on his back. He stopped laughing.

"I'm not here to be laughed at."

"I'm not laughing at you, sugar. I had assumed, given your profession, that you would know. I wasn't expecting to be the first one to get you off. I'd very much like to finish what we started."

Stella let out a huff of annoyance at her naivete. She hadn't even known women were capable of "getting off." She supposed it was just another limitation that came with the job.

"Yes, alright," she assented, hoping her face wasn't too red in humiliation.

"That's a girl," Tony encouraged, spreading her legs once more, lining his cock up with her entrance before slowly thrusting in.

"_Ahhh_-really can tell you're new. So tight. Damn."

Stella wriggled in delight at the fact that she had finally seemed to shut the man up. He seemed to like that too: putting up a bit of a struggle, squeezing tightly around his member. He actually felt quite good inside of her. He sank in deeply, but gently, also seeming to be enjoying himself. She let him thrust and twist and grab and even bite, but when he leaned down to kiss her, she had to refuse.

"No. No, I don't do that," she said, hoping that he would accept her wishes.

"Alright, miss. Save your kiss for your one true love."

He sounded almost bittersweet about the way he said that. She tried to pay it no mind, instead concentrating her efforts on bringing him over the edge with the few tricks she had under her belt. It wasn't much longer before she felt him spill inside her with a throaty groan and collapse onto the bed next to her now sore body. For a few minutes, he simply held her frame against his as he collected himself, and she almost could have fallen asleep had she not remembered Fury's policy of not allowing johns to spend the night with any of the girls in his employ.

"You had better go. It's house rules," Stella said gently, nudging him into action.

"Ok, ok, I won't cause you any more trouble tonight."

Stella wasn't sure whether she should be relieved by his statement or not.

Tony began to redress himself as she pondered his words. Then she remembered something quite important, "If you haven't already, you can leave your money with Fury or 'Tasha."

Tony let out a small chuckle.

"I paid. And you'll find yourself a mighty fine tip too."

Stella's face lit up at his words.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Think nothing of it, Miss Stella. Now I best be getting on my way, but don't think this is the last you'll see of me."

And with a wink, he was gone.

She waited until she could no longer hear his bootheels on the stairs before collapsing back onto the bed, sighing with utter contentment. Though she was sore and tired, she knew she would remember Tony Stark for a while. She almost couldn't wait to see him again...as long as he wasn't such a tease next time.


End file.
